Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
SILAS
The too-hot-to-breathe shower steam of the locker room is beaten back by the rush of air conditioning in the corridor. I use my towel to wipe the building sweat at my hairline as my body instantly cools off now that I’m out of the locker room.
Since our team was on a losing streak we couldn’t recover from, Marilyn was put in charge of getting our act together. Our issues went beyond the ice, I guess, and since she’s started meddling in things outside of her role as a PR manager, we finally have a few wins under our belts.
Marilyn has a funny way of including us in this whole plan to rebrand our hockey team. She was unconventional, and maybe that’s why this was working?
My dark knight mate rounds the corner, with black hair and piercing green eyes, always filled with some sort of worry. He keeps it buried deep, but can’t hide it from me. He’s muttering as he walks, heading for the locker room, eyes wide as he stops, mid-stride, deep in thought.
My gut tingles as he comes closer. Thorne has been my rock since diapers. He lived in the same neighborhood growing up in Michigan, where we played before being traded here.
Living a few houses down made us close, but there was his scent, a hint to me that we were going to be more than friends. More than just Pack mates. My childhood crush turned out to be my scent match.
I knew from my first boner at 14, while we were practicing drills in the backyard, and he fell on me, Thorne was mine. We started as friends, of course, but then middle school feelings started to hit, and jealousy was crazy between us.
It wasn’t until high school that I finally admitted my romantic feelings for him.
He took a while longer. His parents are traditional and strict, to say the least, so he had a load to unpack there before he could be with me.
He knew we were meant to be Pack, but being romantically involved was new for him.
I grew up in a bigger Pack, with four dads who loved the ground their omega walked on, so it wasn’t a far-fetched idea for me.
Thorne had two parents, an alpha dad and omega mom, who both worked so much they rarely saw him.
When they did bother to see him it was to ridicule him.
Remind him he’d never be perfect enough for them despite him trying his hardest. The day Thorne went no-contact with them, was the day after I bonded with him.
Since then he’s been working on reversing all the shit they put into his brain and I couldn’t be more proud of my mate.
He doesn’t need them, he has me, and Havoc.
As I get closer to him, I hear a name. He just keeps repeating the name over and over again like it’ll manifest or something.
“Who's Noah?” I ask, sliding my arm around his shoulders. His strong cherry scent makes me want to take a bite out of him. I stare at where my bond mark is at the base of his neck under his shirt, and I’m half tempted to turn my lips over it.
My Pack mate was never the kind to share his thoughts outright, but for him to be muttering to himself, it must be something serious. “Whose ass do we have to kick?”
“No ass-kicking, she’s a–she… she runs the business outside the arena.” He hasn’t looked directly at me, and I can tell I’m not gonna like where this is going.
Noah is a she? Since when had he been into girls? Since when has someone had him muttering to himself like this?
“Which one?” I ask all the little shops on the street right outside the arena running through my brain, but none stand out.
“The blankets one.” Nope. Nothing comes up for me.
“I don’t know that one. What did she do? Is everything okay?” I ask. I let my gaze fall over him. He’s in his normal after-practice attire — sweats and a t-shirt. “Where’s your jacket?” It’s not cold by any means, but it isn’t exactly hot either.
“Left it in my locker. It’s just–” He cuts himself off and shakes his head. “Her scent.”
“Her scent? What about her scent? Spit it out, Thorne.” Panic starts deep in my core and spreads through my chest like a wildfire. Her scent?
Why didn’t I go with him? I scrunch my brows in frustration.
“She smells so good. No, fucking great, Silas.” I grimace as he talks. Anyone can smell good. I’ve come across scents that smell good, great even. But–
Thorne hasn’t acted this way since… Havoc
“What? Like her scent was…” The words can’t even come out. Like a mate? A scent match? Like us?
Thorne is my scent match, and so is our third Pack mate, Havoc. Scent matches aren’t exactly rare; hell, I have two, but more?
What if she’s only Thorne’s scent match? What if she puts a wrench in our Pack? The Pack I work like hell to keep functional and together. Could one person ruin all of that, ruin us?
“Thorne,” I say. “What if she was, I don’t know, playing you? Did she know you were coming?”
“No. No. This was different. She was different.”
“Did she know you were coming?” I ask again. How dare this woman try to trick my fucking Pack mate into thinking they are scented mates? What kind of off-market shit was she wearing to make him act like this?
“Yes, Marilyn sent me to pick up some samples, but she didn’t know it was gonna be me. I know the difference between a fake match and a real one.”
“Are you sure?”
“Silas,” he groans. Now that our team’s getting more attention, we’re getting higher-priced sponsorships and more fans. Amongst fans come puck bunnies trying to secure a ticket into the limelight. He deserves better than that.
“Let me meet her,” I say, shrugging my shoulders like it’s no big deal, even though my gut turns as we keep talking about this supposed scent match. “I’d have to meet her eventually.”
“Not like this, plus she’s busy.” His green eyes appear brighter as his cheeks get redder. Holy shit, he really likes this girl.
Fuck, this is deeper than I thought.
“Lovebirds over there, we’re going to Slapshots for dinner, you coming?” Kane, one of our teammates yells. I focus on Thorne, watching his eyes dart between me and the door to the arena. He wants to go back to see her. The last thing he needs is to be entrapped by her even more.
“Team morale and all, let’s go to Slapshots, get a few drinks,” I say, dragging Thorne along with me toward our teammates. Their rowdy voices drown out some of the worry in my gut.
Thorne drops this scent match as we all walk to Slapshots. Smiling, as if everything is normal, I try to joke and play around with the team. I have to keep my cool, as I always do. I have to be the calm in my Pack's storm, even though I feel anything but calm.
I’m scared as hell. For weeks, I could feel the impending doom of something disrupting our perfect life, and here it potentially is. I could feel it in my gut for a while, but this? Another person who could put a wrench in our very new Pack? This isn’t something I’m ready for.
“Silas–” Thorne tries as we sit at Slapshots’ green barstools, but I shake my head, cutting him off.
“Don’t worry, if she’s really your scent match, we’ll work through it, like we’ve done everything else.” We had to. I couldn’t lose this perfect life we'd built just as we were starting to settle in.
One restless night brought me to the arena. My mind was stuck on this Noa, all during practice this morning. If this Noa might be a Pack mate, it’s only fair I get to meet her, right?
I waited one entire day before rushing to meet the woman Thorne met.
Coach Wallace would say to stay focused, especially the day before the game, but curiosity killed the cat, and satisfaction brought it back.
I have to meet this woman. Once I meet her, I can figure out if she’s a threat to my Pack and then move on.
How could someone pull Thorne from me so quickly? His attention has been shot ever since he met this girl, not even 48 hours ago. He’s not the most talkative; neither of my Pack mates are, but every single conversation that came from him was about Noa.
Noa without the H.
Her scent was earth-shattering.
She smiled at me.
Her hair was like a dreamy, fiery halo.
He has made me more than curious, and the desire to meet her eats at my insides.
Could my Pack handle an omega? He said she was definitely an omega.
This would probably be less scary if she were a beta, or even another alpha, but I couldn’t have been that lucky.
Omegas change the dynamics too much. What if she throws us off balance in all the worst ways?
Maybe I should have called my dads for some advice.
What if the omega doesn’t like me?
Would my Pack leave me?
An omega isn’t like having an alpha. When Havoc joined us, he was an alpha joining an alpha pair. It was seamless, easy. With the scent match working its magic, we just clicked.
An omega has to be courted. They have to be wined and dined, and even after all that, they could still leave us. They could fall for one member, but not the others, isolate me, Havoc? Separate us.
Or they could bring you together in a bond no others could understand, like your mom did. I can hear my dad, Jack, in my head now. But I know more Packs, like Thorne’s, where the omega separated the Pack and ruined the family the other members had built.
I know my Pack. We fall hard and fast, but will we survive adding an omega to the mix? When things are already going so well?
I decided that, as lead alpha, I have to check her out first, and I’d do so during my break from practice, when Throne is busy getting checked over by our physical therapist. He pulled a muscle in his leg a while back, and they are keeping an eye on it.
It’s the perfect chance to see her.
It’s nothing but pure curiosity bringing me here to this little shop on a break between practices.
No gut pull, no scent, is luring me here. Inhaling, just to be sure, I smell nothing but freshly mowed grass and fresh paint on the cement in preparation for tomorrow’s game.
I look up at the orange sign above the door, Cozy Bear Blankets.
Definitely an omega-geared shop, if I’ve ever seen one. The windows previewed tables filled with blankets, stacked high in all sorts of colors and patterns. The logo on the window is in a marker with the slogan “Blanket that adds the perfect touch” in frilly font underneath.
I go to pull open the door, but it’s locked. Hmm? I looked at the hours, and it said 8 am-12 pm appointments only. Checking my watch, I see that it’s 12:05. I stare inside. I have one hour to meet this woman, and I don’t want to miss her. I can’t.
Peering inside the glass, the lights are on. These air humidifiers things are moving back and forth, and the ceiling fans are on. So she must be here, and like an annoying jackass, I knock on the glass.
Nothing happens, and I step away from the glass, looking at the other surrounding businesses. There are a few small restaurants, a pottery shop, and a few others. It’s a nice, busy spot–
“May I help you?” The door cracks open, and I’m stumbling forward, losing my grip on the door.
I catch myself before I nearly fall onto the woman on the other side of the door.
Before I can even get a good look at her, the smell of peaches showers over me, blasting me from inside, and I lose all my thoughts as I stare at her.
“Um.” is all I can muster. Her scent is strong as it comes from the door. As strong as Thorne’s is. I think about the mixing of peaches with his pure cherry scent and Havoc’s with his white chocolate.
How fucking delicious they’d all be. Together.
No, oh shit, I’m worse than Thorne.
“Yes?” I’d think she wasn’t impacted by my scent too, but her voice wobbles just the slightest bit.
This drop-dead gorgeous woman is quite a few inches shorter than I am, with straightened ginger hair that comes to about her shoulders.
A dreamy, fiery halo. She’s got brown eyes, long lashes like Thorne, a cute, round little nose, and beautiful brown skin, as dark as mine.
She’s fucking beautiful, and she smells like pure fucking heaven.
This scent couldn’t be manufactured, bought, or crafted.
Her scent is so captivating, it leaves me dumbstruck.
“Hello?” She tries again, eyeing me with a hint of suspicion in her eyes. Her soft voice rings in my ears, and the urge to keep her talking is the only thing that brings me out of the stump she’d put me in.
“Hi,” I cough, trying to buy some more time to think of what to say. What the hell was my agenda again? “What time do you open for walk-ins?”
“Today is open for appointments only. I’m really sorry about the inconvenience,” she says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. The cutest fucking thing I’ve ever seen any woman do.
“Oh,” I say, willing myself to find something else to say, but I can’t think of anything appropriate. How do I get her to keep talking to me?
“I’m really sorry,” she says, her brows creasing in worry as she holds the door cracked open.
“I can- I can open the store for you after I finish with my client, but I can only open it for thirty minutes.” My chest blooms with hope as I watch her inhale, and I hope like hell she wants more of my scent.
I nod my head, speechless still, and she slowly shuts the door as I stare at her like a dumbass.
I watch her scurry off, and I feel the tugging in my stomach as she gets farther and farther away.
She’s my scent mate. She has to be. Her scent calls to mine, as do my other mates, but how? How in the world do I have three scent mates? What are the fucking chances?
I need to grab Havoc. Could she be his scent mate, too?